


Stims

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Integrated Worlds [10]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Self Harm, Moirailship, Pale Relationship, Sleepovers, Stimming, integrated worlds au, very slight mention of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 06:59:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15237918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Karkat learns a couple things about Dave during a sleepover.





	Stims

You actually only notice the nervous thing when you sleep over at Dave's apartment the second time. 

Well, the second time not counting his fucking meltdown; that both counts and doesn't fucking count at all. It was a pale obligation, one that you were one hundred percent willing to fulfill but _still_ an obligation. There's a difference between being there because he _needs_ you, or being there because he wants you to be. Or because staying over at your friends' hives is something that you just kind of expect by now. A fucking necessity. 

Enough of a necessity that eventually you gave up on waiting for him up invite you over and messaged him that you'd be coming over to spend the night, unless he had a problem with it. 

Which he didn't. It was really fucking lucky that he didn't, because that was one of the days when you'd been fighting with Kankri more or less constantly, to the point where your dad had stepped in repeatedly to prevent actual _physical_ fighting. You needed _out_. You needed your _moirail._

And Dave provided a safe, calm place to calm the fuck down and unwind with no fewer than four stupid cheesy movies that he mocked the entire time and you absolutely loved. It was fucking _great_. 

The second time, he _does_ invite you over. Or at least message you suggesting that a sleepover would be "pretty chill right." Which you take as an invitation. Because it probably is. Dave's just almost completely incapable of outright asking for shit, is all. 

Anyway. You show up, you insist on rearranging his living room to accommodate a blanket/pillow pile because _last_ time you used the couch and watched movies you chose, so _this_ time you have to have a proper pile and watch _his_ movies—it's simple compromise, of course. The respitebag you brought gets unzipped and added to Dave's stash of blankets; the end result is pretty fucking satisfying. Scooping Dave's lanky ass up and tossing him down into the pile is also satisfying. 

He drags you in afterwards, of course, and you're fine with that. He's a hell of a lot more gentle in his wrestling than Sollux or Nepeta are, quicker to back off from the scuffle when you start chirring for release. The only issue is that _you're_ not always gentle enough, though; you've learned that he'll fucking flip out if you pin him down, to the point where his eyes glaze over and his breathing picks up, like he's having a very quiet panic attack. 

Maybe he is. You don't know. You have that filed in the list of shit that triggers him, though, and tonight's tussle ends with you getting ahold of a pillow and whacking him over the head with it. 

And that's the signal for you both to settle down, and for you to start scrolling through the list of movies Dave's given you to choose from tonight. It's a pretty big list; he obviously wanted to give you a lot of possibilities...

Something is making a soft, repetitive thudding noise. It's really fucking distracting. 

You look over, and realize that it's Dave. He's watching the screen as you scroll down the choices, leaning back against the wall and thumping his head against the wall maybe twice a second or so. It looks like the kind of repetitive stress motion Mituna would make, except 'Tuna doesn't usually do that shit with his head and Dave doesn't look all that stressed. Distracted, maybe. Overly focused on the television. 

But he's banging his head against the wall hard enough that it's making _your_ head hurt, so after a couple more seconds of watching him do that you just kind of...stick your hand between his head and the wall. 

That is a fucking mistake. He's not just _gently thumping_ his head against the wall; _lowkey slamming_ is a better description. The impact is enough to make you squeak in surprise, and Dave flinches slightly at the sound and the sensation of hitting your hand instead of the harder surface, reflexively reaching up to grab your wrist and pull it down so he can stare at your hand with a look of complete bafflement. 

"Shit, what happened? Did I hurt you? How—" 

"You didn't hurt _me,_ calm the fuck down," you tell him, carefully shaking his grip on your wrist off and lacing your fingers through his instead. "I thought you might be hurting yourself, actually."

"Uh...what?" The way he just stares at you suggests he didn't even realize he was doing that. You have to stifle a sigh. 

"You were banging your head against the wall." 

"Was not." It's both reflexive and honest. 

You have a brother, so your answer is just as automatic. "Was too." 

"It's _were_ too, dumbass." 

"So you admit you were!" You can't help but grin; he actually fell for that. "But seriously, you're going to give yourself brain damage or something. Aren't human heads really fucking easy to damage?" 

Dave makes a face, shrugging a bit. "I wasn't banging my goddamn head against the wall, dude—" 

"Yeah you were!" 

"—but _if I was,_ that's _so_ not what's gonna fuck me up." He hesitates, then shrugs again and adds, "You know my history; I'm tough enough to survive just about anything, right?" 

That...might have been the first time he admitted, face to face, how badly he's been hurt in the past. It's an admission of trust that almost makes you purr. 

Not quite, because he's still being an asshat. "It'll give you a headache." 

"Will not." 

"Will too." 

"Will not—look, pick the goddamn movie and I'll make sure not to do it anymore. Not that I _was_ doing it in the first place. Deal?" 

"Hmph." But he's staring at you, eyebrows raised above his shades with that weird look that says he's going to be a stubborn little shit, so you just roll your eyes at him and pick a movie off the list at random, shoving blankets around to nestle next to his slightly-cooler body and relaxing there.

* * *

Ten minutes in, he's doing it again. 

This time, you surreptitiously get out your phone and catch a minute or so of video before you put your hand between him and the wall to stop it. The impact is just as hard; how the fuck can he do that to himself? 

The look Dave gives you is less confused and more exasperated, and he doesn't grab at your hand again. "C'mon, Karkat. This shit ain't funny." 

"Funny-humorous? No. Funny-weird? Kind of." You hold out your phone to him, showing the video. "Believe me yet?" 

He just...stares. For a good three repetitions of the video, until you pause it and pull the phone back. "Fuck. Really?" 

"Yes, really. Doesn't it hurt?" 

"I guess?" Dave rubs at the back of his head, like he's checking to see if there is actually a sore place. _Now_ he looks very fucking confused again. "I mean, it's not like I'm doing it _to_ hurt myself, I swear. That'd be pretty damn ineffective..." 

"Ineffective?" That is not the word you would use. 

"Yeah, it's not—maybe it's a lil' bit sore, but I can't really tell, dude. If I'm using pain to focus I like, bite my lips or something. Fuck my palms up with my nails." 

Okay, him keeping his nails even shorter than most humans do suddenly makes a lot of sense. If he has a habit of digging them into his palms, he'd need them to be clipped down far enough to minimize the actual damage. 

...you really do not fucking like thinking about Dave hurting himself. Even a little. You don't like this shit at all. 

Dave apparently notices you growling softly, because he huffs and reaches across to pap your cheek, shoving his shades up with his other hand so he can actually meet your eyes. "I'm not gonna hurt myself." 

"Dave, you are literally slamming your head against the wall. I'm surprised there's not a fucking dent." 

"Uh..." For a second, you think he's going to promise he's not going to do it anymore (again) which is a completely useless exercise since it's _obviously_ an unconscious thing—but your moirail surprises you. "Gimme a pillow." 

"What?" 

When you don't move, Dave rolls his eyes and snags one of the pillows that isn't currently under either your body or his, fluffing it up a bit before he shoves it behind his head. After a moment spent getting settled again, he grins at you, holding out his arms. "There we go. No brain damage. Happy?" 

"Very," you inform him, and you cuddle up against his side to continue watching the dumbass movie, leaning your head on his chest so his heartbeat can put you to sleep. 

After a while, you can feel him twitching a bit as he tries to slam his head back against the wall again. Eh, at least now he can't hurt himself. 

It's fine. 

He's fine. Calm down. 

And eventually, you do calm down, because you fall asleep there in the pile, cuddled up to him. And it's really fucking good because of course it is. Because you care about him. 

Because you like him. 

You most definitely don't wake up in the middle of the night and think about _how_ you like him for ten minutes, before shoving that firmly down into the the _Very Bad Idea_ bin in your head and going the fuck to sleep again. 

He's your moirail. You need to stop trying to make it red. 

(Not that you know this now, but you'll manage to do that really fucking well, for maybe another half sweep or so. Future Karkat will either admire Present Karkat's restraint, or wish he could retroactively kick his own ass. Or both.)

But right now, you're good with your pale cuddles with your...bro. It's good.

**Author's Note:**

> The fun part about this one is that all of the behaviors mentioned by Dave are things _I_ do.


End file.
